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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26112769">hollow’s eve</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelicwerewolf/pseuds/angelicwerewolf'>angelicwerewolf</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>No Fandom, Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood, Demon, Mythology - Freeform, Non-graphic death, Not Beta Read, Oh also, Supernatural Elements, Urban Fantasy, Urban Legends, again nothing’s too graphic I don’t think, hamlet isn’t rlly a demon but his horse is sO, hamlet’s fucking PISSED, i honestly don’t know ;w;, unless you count non descriptive decapitation too graphic??</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:07:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,455</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26112769</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelicwerewolf/pseuds/angelicwerewolf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s never a good idea to try and fake out things of which you do not understand the power of, never mind a headless horseman.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>hollow’s eve</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>my chromebook perished and my windows laptop I use for drawing and steam is hell and a half to write in somehow?? so I wrote this in my phone and I’m also posting this from my phone, apologies for any formatting errors in the process ;w;</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>1797</em>.</p><p> </p><p>The people of the town didn’t know if they should scatter for cover or help their town’s mayor, who found himself in a fight reduced to a scuffle, and eventually a pitiful struggle, for he who hopes to overpower the entity before them was a fool.</p><p> </p><p>The entity— a man with no head yet a heart of which to live with— pressed the heel of his boots into the chest of the mayor, keeping him pinned with the threat of a blade to go along with it. It was short enough for the headless horseman to lean over and hold it against the man’s throat, ignoring the nosy crowd around them.</p><p> </p><p>“Who—“ The mayor coughed when the heel twisted for good measure. “Who a- are you? What are you, fiend!”</p><p> </p><p>“I am no more of a fiend than you are.” Snapped the man with no head. “I am Hamlet, and you, are the yahoo with things of which do not belong to you. Where is it?”</p><p> </p><p>“I- I don’t—“</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Where.</em>” He barked; voice growing low and dangerous. “<em>Is my head?</em>”</p><p> </p><p>The crowd backed further at the outburst. The entity— Hamlet, as he proclaimed— had an odd voice. It was like any other voice, but his own danced around people’s ears like a distant voice somehow close enough to be clear and audible. They have lowered their weapons, too scared to tussle with the supernatural and too curious of their mayor’s secret.</p><p> </p><p>“I do not know of any heads that you’re talking about! What do you take me for?!” For having a foot crushing his ribs, the mayor had impressive vocals through his croaky voice threatening coughs and gasps. “I’m no murderer like yourself!”</p><p> </p><p>“These so called murders of which I committed are but a job, but you have stolen things in a futile attempt to blackmail me.” Hamlet drew back but kept the blade pointed straight down and his foot firm as ever, nonplussed by squeezing hands around his ankle. “I’m sorry, mayor, but those things don’t work on the dead like me.”</p><p> </p><p>The mayor chuckled with a bit of work past the pain on his chest. “Maybe not to you, young Hamlet.” He licked his lips at the tellings of the metallic taste in his mouth, making him glare up to where eyes should’ve been. “Your kind’s heads are a valuable thing, you know?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, jolly good for you.” The way he turns mimics when a head cocks to the side. “That means nothing to me, however. Look at you, pathetic whelp, relying on scummy tactics for power. You’ve already made a mess of yourself, so why don’t you pick up what’s left of your dignity and do something good for once?”</p><p> </p><p>He gestures to the people around them, causing a number to duck from the sight of the hands— no, outright <em>claws</em>— to which he paid no mind, but the mayor did; looking from the faceless man to the mostly unreadable people witnessing this entire debacle.</p><p> </p><p>The mayor has a realization. Their once peaceful town of gothic architecture soon became haunted by the horseman and his steed when he stole the head for his own selfish gains, a secret now out and known to residents sure to be crossed with the mayor, crossed residents unbothered to do horrible things if he didn’t fix his own mess up.</p><p> </p><p>To save skin, the mayor relented. At this point Hamlet had loosened the force of his hold, making it easier for the other to talk and breath. “Mr. Acker!” He called. “Come forward, now! G- Give this fiend his head.”</p><p> </p><p>Hamlet’s not keen to being called a fiend but maintains his composure for the poor sucker dragged into this mess. Mr. Acker comes fearfully shaking from the crowd, holding a clunky box lined with gold. It was evident Mr. Acker couldn’t handle the gore or even holding the thing itself, so Hamlet spared him the torture by taking it from him as soon as possible, flipping its locks to open the lid.</p><p> </p><p>Hamlet was satisfied. He took his foot off the mayor’s chest and dug the blade into the ground and snow beneath their feet.</p><p> </p><p>The public really couldn’t get a good look of the horseman’s face as he observed his own head; all they could see was a messy tussle of waving black hair and bits of pale skin.</p><p> </p><p>That day people discovered many things about their mayor and the resident haunting, but one of the many things they didn’t discover was the physical identity of the undead rider.</p><p> </p><p>Along with his mystery, came his giant steed galloping through a quickly parting, spooked crowd, as the hoofed beast with red eyes stared down the man behind his rider’s distress. Hamlet turns to his horse, tying the box in the saddle from where a bag hung.</p><p> </p><p>“You have your head now,” began the mayor, having stood up while Hamlet had his back to him, fruitlessly patting muddy snow off his clothes, “Now go! Leave my town alone.”</p><p> </p><p>One swift knot later, Hamlet runs his hand from the horse’s torso up to his neck where he finally draws it back to reach for his short blade instead— He pulls it free from the snow with ease, sheathing back into the belt. “Yes.” Hamlet murmurs, facing the man. He mocks a high and mighty posture, fixing the neckcloth rustled from his suit in the earlier’s scuffle. “I’ll gladly leave your town alone after so many torturous years, but I’ll be off with a warning, dear mayor.”</p><p> </p><p>“A- And—“ The mayor gulps— trying and failing just a bit to keep still from the distance he’d previously taken after being freed, of which is now being closed by the rider in just a few steps. “What is th- that warning, If I’m to ask?”</p><p> </p><p>“You needn’t.”</p><p> </p><p>Hamlet took the blade at his side and lopped the mayor’s head right off. The event went by so fast the people’s gasp and sounds of vomit and horror was delayed, while the body fell backwards to the ground and the head fell between the horseman’s legs, blood pooling and sponging the snow and mud furthermore. The dead mayor’s expression had not changed from it’s slightly smug facade, having had no time to process deception or pain.</p><p> </p><p>He paid no mind to the grotesque scene at hand and turned his attention to the townsfolk further backing away with their weapons raised cautiously but unsure.</p><p> </p><p>“You.” His disembodied and dancing voice booms, but it does not quite reach the expected force of loud attention. The bloodied blade is raised, pointed straight at the shocked Mr. Acker who’d gone pale.</p><p> </p><p>When he realizes the headless horseman is falling for his attention, he ducks, hands over his head already crying. “P- Please! I didn’t agree to partake in this madness! I promise, Mr. Hamlet!”</p><p> </p><p>“I know.” Hamlet said simply and softer this time, lowering the blade once more. “For that, you will be spared. I’m no gullible fool consumed by blind rage, Mr. Acker, but let me offer you some advice for the future. If you ever get intertwined in something like this a second time, you may not be so lucky again— Not every beast, demon, angel, god or entity is as forgiving as others like myself may be and will not care for your innocence. I suggest that next time to turn tail.” The horseman shifted then. “You may come find me, even, you’ll know where.” He whispered low enough for only Mr. Acker to hear— In fact, the voice wasn’t next to his ears but <em>in</em> his head.</p><p> </p><p>With no time to reply and thank the entity for being spared, Hamlet speaks again.</p><p> </p><p>“As for the rest of you,”</p><p> </p><p>Hamlet’s voice booms again and his horse triumphantly bucks and neighs, boring his bright red eyes into the souls of anyone who looks straight at him, much like the blade glinting in the direction of them.</p><p> </p><p>“Let this serve as a cautionary tale. Farewell.” He sheathed the blade, swiftly clambering his trusty steed.</p><p> </p><p>The headless horseman hasn’t need to say anything else for the townsfolk to get the message or for his steed to rear on it’s hind legs, proudly, screeching another unsettling neigh before riding his rider off beyond the fog into the woods.</p><p> </p><p>The distant galloping ceases after a few seconds and all that’s left is the silent shock of town’s people and a tale to tell.</p><p> </p><p>Of their corrupted, now-dead mayor, and the headless horseman riding a horse from Hell.</p><p> </p><p>A tale people down the centuries would go on to believe as nothing but urban legends and myths to scare people with around the campfire—</p><p> </p><p>The tale of The Hollow’s Eve. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I know Hollow’s Eve is not all too different from Sleepy Hollow but this is just. probably a filler name until I find another one that sounds just as good?? anyhow! this is my headless horseman oc’s backstory. he’s an angry boy when he’s thoroughly pissed</p></blockquote></div></div>
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